


Sixteen weeks of denial

by Fatale (femme)



Series: This is not a love song [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale





	Sixteen weeks of denial

Sixteen weeks of denial  
Jared/Jensen, NC-17  
WC: 1983

Set after [This is not a love song](http://fatale.livejournal.com/189944.html). I was tempted to say, "They angst, then they have sex. THE END."

 

 

"I take it," Jared said, watching some girl writhe on Jensen's lap, "you're feeling better."

The girl laughed, full and throaty. "Seems pretty damn fine to me."

"That I am," Jensen agreed, then floundered for a minute. He flashed a blinding smile and said very significantly, " _you_." Which just meant Jensen didn't know her name or couldn't remember it. Jared didn't know which was worse.

"I'll leave you to your...business," he said, feeling stupid and awkward and hating Jensen for it. A low heat spread through his belly at the expression on Jensen's face, at the slow, lazy sweep of his too-long eyelashes. He fairly stumbled away; his body felt too large, his feet too long for him. Jensen made him unsteady.

Laughter floated over the crowd, the garish colours in the room clashing and bleeding together, floor buzzing with energy and crappy music. Guess Jensen was over his ex, and hey, he had Jared to thank for it.

Sometimes Jared was a real fucking idiot.

"Buy you a drink?" a short brunette said, touching his elbow lightly, letting Jared give her a quick once-over. She'd be just his type if he wasn't preoccupied with the dumbass halfway across the room with his head buried in some girl's neckline. Jesus, was that really necessary? Jared twisted around to get a better look. "You could have just said no," the brunette said, eyes glinting in the dim lighting. "Could've told me you already had someone."

Jared glanced at her apologetically, meaning to say something like _sorry_ or a denial, but blurted out instead, "He's not mine."

She shook her head, looking exasperated and once again, he was reminded of Sandy, 2000 miles away and not talking to him right now. Or maybe ever. "Yeah, I can tell. That's why he keeps looking this way." She leaned close and stood on her toes, getting as close to his ear as possible, which wasn't very. "It's not me he's checking out, sweetheart."

 

***

 

He splashed cold water over his face, eyes ugly and flat in the mirror under the unnatural blue light in the bathroom.

He wiped his face with stiff, cheap paper towels and tried to avoid his reflection. The door flew open and Jared turned in time to see Jensen stumble in, belting out John Mayer lyrics off-key. “Man, I love that song,” he said when he saw Jared. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Jared said, while watching Jensen fumble with the tap. He was tempted to help him, but that never boded well for him. Look where it’d gotten him so far.

“That’s usually what happens, J,” Jensen said, twisting at the tap and looking confused when no water came out. Jared sighed and did it for him.

“Where’d what’s her face go?”

“Who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Jared said pointedly, and immediately felt stupid. There was no reason to argue with a drunk Jensen - he wouldn’t get anywhere and Jensen wouldn’t remember anyway.

Jensen leaned in close and Jared could smell the sweat on him, the gross cologne that smelled like cinnamon or some spicy shit underneath that. His eyes slid over Jared assessingly, almost too sharply. “You’re angry,” he said, then corrected himself. “You’re _jealous._ ”

Only Jensen got more perceptive the more he drank. “Yeah right, man, I just thought she was gross is all. You could seriously do better.”

“Like what?”

Jensen moved closer and it wasn’t until Jared felt the hard edge of the sink dig into his back that he realised he’d been backing up. “Like what? I don’t know.”

“Like you?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Jared’s heart thumped steadily to the music outside, that is to say, manic like he was going to drop dead any minute.

“You never told me what happened last time, beside some bullshit I don’t even know about metaphors. I don’t even know what a fucking metaphor is.”

“Oh shut up. Yes, you do,” Jared said and before he could say anything else, Jensen leaned in, swiped his tongue lazily across Jared’s bottom lip.

“What d’you say we get out of here?” Jensen’s voice dropped a full octave, full of gravel and promises.

Promises he rarely kept, Jared reminded himself. Whatever hang-ups he’d had last time were still, well, hanging.

“I don’t think so,” Jared said quietly, regretfully, like it shredded himself somewhere inside to say it. “Not a good idea.” He slid away from Jensen and towards the door, reminding himself how much he could fuck this up.

“I remember,” Jensen said suddenly and Jared turned to stare at him, where he leaned against the counter as if was holding him up, the light washing him out, making him a negative image of himself: white, pale skin and dark, startled eyes.

“How much?”

“Enough.” Jensen licked his lips, slowly, nervously. “Enough to want more.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jensen shook his head and lowered his face until his expression was hidden and it was like a punch to the gut. He had to grab the door. Jared finally got it, he finally got Jensen.

Some shit you just couldn't say, but you could show it.

 

***

 

They'd done this before, the grabbing and the kissing and the biting. Funny how Jared never got tired of it.

"What do you want?" Jared asked, palming Jensen's face and tilting his head back. He sucked and bit on the damp, hot skin he found there. "Tell me."

"Fuck," Jensen hissed at the sharp bite mark Jared left on his neck. "Gonna leave marks all over me."

"That's the idea." Jared fumbled with Jensen's zipper for a moment, then tugged it down impatiently.

"Whoa," Jensen said, far too calm for Jared's frayed nerves. "This isn't a race, J. We've got all night." He tugged his clothes off with slow, practised movements, like he’d stripped in front of people a million times. And he probably had, probably brought guys back all the time.

"You do not get to fuck other guys," Jared growled, the sound a low rumble that echoed the sick ache in his gut at the thought of other guys fucking Jensen.

Jensen stepped forward, crowding Jared's space and senses until the world was _Jensen Jensen Jensen_ only.

They fell back towards the bed, clumsily shedding articles of Jared's clothes along the way. He ended up on top of Jensen, nestled between his spread legs and the weight, the feel of Jensen's cock against his belly was enough to undo him.

He moved down, lower, until Jensen's cock was in front of him and he swiped a hesitant tongue over the head, then again, encouraged by the way Jensen's thighs fell further apart and the quick almost-thrust of his hips.

"Fuck, J, want you," Jensen muttered, his words dissolving into a useless litany of words pouring from his throat as Jared took him deeper, deeper. Under normal circumstances, Jensen wasn't the most talkative guy, but it was like he might burst if he couldn’t say it, if he couldn’t mummer all the filthy things he wanted Jared to do to him. "Want you to fuck me. Want you inside me," Jensen said, arching into the hand Jared was running up his side and over his belly in long, soothing strokes.

It was Jensen he was surrounded by, Jared had to remind himself, unfamiliar with this person with his hands wound in Jared's hair, legs wrapped around him tightly. Jensen, who was neurotic and needed to be prodded into everything, who was awkward and always afraid to take things for himself.

This was the part of Jensen he only shared with Jared.

Oh _hell_ , he thought. He was turning into a _woman_.

Jared looked up at Jensen, head thrown back and biting his lip to keep from talking, and he nearly came right there on stupid 500-count sheets, gagging on Jensen's cock. He reached down, squeezed himself lightly. Think unsexy thoughts. It was hard to do with one of the hottest fucking sights ever writhing under you like he couldn’t get enough of your mouth on his dick.

Jared leaned back, pulled away from Jensen's grasping hands. "Tell me what else you want," he said, not recognizing the harsh tone in his own voice. "Tell me."

He hadn't seen Jensen like this before. He was beyond caring how he looked at this moment: he was raw nerves and heat and want. "Fuck me. With your - with your fingers.”

"And?"

"Make it hard, rough," he begged raggedly, words tumbling from his mouth of their own accord.

Jared didn’t recognize this messy need in Jensen, the way it made his body flushed and feverish. "Lube," he said and Jensen made a half-motion towards his bedside table. Jared nearly yanked out the drawer in his haste.

Jared slipped a slick finger into Jensen, other hand rubbing circles over the hard planes of his belly as he worked his way into him, knuckles deep.

It only took a minute before Jensen was thrusting himself back on those fingers, making small helpless sounds. He took a deep breath, tried to memorize this moment when Jensen was totally his.

"Come on.”

Jared pulled his fingers out, slipped a hand under Jensen's ass, angled him up and pushed into him with one shallow thrust. Jensen groaned, long and hard, head back and throat bared until Jared was fully in him. "Give me a minute," he said, eyes closed, lashes casting long shadows over his cheeks. "Okay."

Jared moved then, his body with Jensen's until they had an unsteady rhythm that Jensen kept breaking by making that stupid, unbearably hot noise that made Jared stop to collect himself. He leaned down for a kiss, loving the stretch of tight muscle against his skin. Their kiss was electric, filthy, open-mouths and tongues winding together.

Jared twisted his hips sharply and Jensen fell back, head against the pillow, mouth open as he came, leaving a hot, wet pool against Jared's belly. Jared scraped a hand through Jensen's short hair, tilted his head to kiss him half on the lips, half on the chin, and over his stubble-rough jaw. Jensen relaxed against him, sated and fucked-out, but Jared pushed his legs further apart and set a brutal pace, hard, fast, and dirty.

He fucked Jensen's body until he could feel Jensen's cock hardening against his belly again. He snapped his hips forward, once, twice and Jensen's ass clenched around his cock and it was _over_. It was so stupid to think Jensen was his, Jared thought the moment before white-hot orgasm washed over him, before he couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe.

Jensen moved beneath him, one leg around his waist, impatiently digging his heel into Jared’s back. “Come on, man, get off. You’re heavy.”

“That’s not the way to get me off you,” Jared warned.

“Yeah, well.” Silence, then, “We gonna talk about this?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” The truth was, _Jared_ didn’t want to talk about it. Jensen worried, he analysed and made things too goddamn complicate and Jared just wanted to be here. With Jensen.

“We need to talk,” Jensen said, chewing on his lip, mind already angsting about next month and whatever bad things he could think up.

Jared huffed and rolled over. Of course they’d talk it because that’s what Jensen wanted to do and they’d probably play the denial angle and blame it on alcohol or whatever else Jensen needed to get himself through the next sixteen weeks until they had sex again.

It was stupid to think Jensen belonged to him. It was always, always the other way around.

 

 

 

the end.  



End file.
